Carpe Jugulum
by Slaught
Summary: A Hellsing Blade Crossover with both series altered enough to be almost unrecognizable.
1. Carpe Jugulum:Chapter One

Standard Disclaimer: I, of course, do not own any of the characters from either _Blade or __Hellsing. _

Author's note: This, technically, is a _Blade/Hellsing_ crossover. When I say technically, I mean that it takes elements from both those universes, and transplants them together. This means, for example, that Alucard doesn't feature at all in the fic. (_No Alucard in a Hellsing fic?!__ I hear you scream, __What the F*** is wrong with you!?) Well, for two reasons: One, the Hellsing organisation as you know it exists in name only, with an almost completely different staff, most of whom are new AC characters. No self-inserts of course. And secondly, I'm a Victoria Celes fan. While many people may spell her name differently, that version seems the most 'English;' of the possible translations. In addition, when I refer to _Blade_, I'm talking about the movie universe, not the graphic novel one._

If, by any chance, you are a _Hellsing_ or _Blade fan, and you feel that I have taken a hideous liberty with the characters, and you feel the need to write out a 300 kilobyte essay on why I should never have done this, and why I should never have been born, then feel free to review. :D_

Anyway, onto the story…

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**Carpe Jugulum**

In the misty moorlands of middle England, all was calm. All the wind slid slowly through the trees, birds chirped occasionally, complementing the sound of the wind running through the leaves on the trees. It was October, and Autumn was just beginning. Freshly fallen leaves covered the ground in irregular patches, lending small splashes of red and orange to the otherwise green and brown countryside. In the semi silence of a still dark morning, the air was crisp and chilly, and patches of mist hung in the depressions and valleys of the area.

This image of quaint, European tranquillity was barely disturbed by the almost imperceptible movement of a group of soldiers. Burdened down by heavy rucksacks and weaponry, their combat dress covered with foliage, and their faces smeared with camouflage cream, they were almost invisible against the green background when not in motion. 

If a curious observer had been present, and had managed to get close (extremely unlikely), and if he or she had any knowledge of standard British Army equipment, he or she would have noticed a number of discrepancies. Firstly, these soldiers were equipped with non-standard weapons. Each of them carried what appeared to be a rather heavily modified Heckler and Koch G36, which bore no resemblance to the Army's standard SA-80.

If this curious, and extremely stealthy observer had the drawn their attention to other items the soldiers were carrying, the might have, depending on the personality, either blinked with disbelief, or simply become even more curious.

Each of the soldiers had a patch on their uniformed shoulders. This wasn't at all unusual. What _was_ odd was what the patches displayed. The symbol was unlike any regimental badge in the British Army, Navy, Air Force or Special Services. It was a shield, divided vertically and horizontally into four sections, alternately coloured black and red. Above these sections, a simple word was embroidered. _Hellsing._

No matter how stealthy our hypothetical observer had been, he or she would probably have been spotted at some point on the group's 30 mile jog through the moorlands. Now, barely a mile from their target, the group stopped to catch their breath, and receive an update on the situation. Almost the instant they stopped, the group's communications officer was radioing their Field HQ for additional orders.

_"Echo Two to Home Base, Echo Two is in position. Standing by, be advised we are ready to move, over."_

_"This is Home Base; intel reports twelve targets, at least one Bloodsucker. Be careful, over"._

_"…We copy that"._

Now, closer to the target, standard mission nervousness was beginning to set in. Some of the troops dealt with it differently than others. As the group advanced, most were quiet, scanning the surrounding countryside. Two of the troops were performing a ritual as old as soldiering itself: complaining. Even though they were whispering, the sound carried clearly over to their amused team-mates.

_"England vs. Germany, biggest bloody football match of the fookin' century, and we're stuck here in bloody Leicestershire, on a bloody vamp hunt."_

_"Will you just let it go, mate? There's nothing we can do about it, and you can catch the replays later, any way."_

_"Yeah, but it's not the same. And what's this place supposed to be? 'Cheddar', what kind of bloody name is that for a town?"_

_"Maybe they invented the cheese here?"_

As they moved, the others exchanged bemused glances. Then, the squad's leader signalled a halt. The group moved into covering positions as the Officer began his briefing.

_"Alright lads, sorry about keeping you in the dark until we're almost on site, but the situation is a little more complex than usual._

_Recently, a number of murders were committed in the village ahead. A number of local residents, their bodies badly mutilated post-mortem._

_Yesterday, a special police unit was dispatched to conduct an investigation, and they obviously stumbled onto something they didn't expect, because contact was lost a few minutes after they entered an old, ruined church on the outskirts of the town. Now, the chief police constable at the local station had been told to by our intel boys to contact us if anything unusual happened, so when a squad of fully armed police officers disappeared without a trace, he knew who to turn to."_

_"You've probably guessed what kind of creature is a work here, and we just got confirmation from our sources that there _is_ a vampire in the Church, and he appears to have 'converted' a number of police officers."_

"Bloody hell", whispered one of the soldiers. "Zombies with _guns..?"_

_"That's right."_

Raising his voice slightly to make himself heard, the officer continued the briefing.

"Alright, as we move in, remember, the area _has_ been cleared, _and everything that moves is a target_. In other words, if Little Red Riding Hood pops up and offers you a cookie, _I expect you to waste the bitch!_" Grim laughter followed this comment, and the team resumed their advance.

Moving quickly even in comparison with their earlier punishing pace, the team divided into four fireteams of two men each, with a pair of the teams advancing ahead, and the other two covering them.

As they padded quietly across the damp and misty moorlands, a crumbling, moss-encrusted edifice loomed up ahead of them, rising like some biblical leviathan out of the fog.

_"That's our target", _whispered the Sergeant, unnecessarily. Moving warily towards the building, careful for danger, the Hellsing troops were thus well prepared to find cover when a number of gun muzzles poked from the gaping holes that had once housed the church's stained glass windows. A fraction of a second later, all hell broke loose.

The Hellsing troops dived for cover as the Ghouls inside the building fired wildly from within the church. Now, one fact that each of the troopers was well aware of was that reanimated corpses, even armed ones, are singularly poor combatants, with little or no knowledge of the concepts of fire control, using cover, or tactics in general. Even after their prospective targets had disappeared behind various items of cover in the graveyard, the undead continued firing, chipping away at oblivious stone tombstones and monuments. A few seconds later, the sound of massed gunfire stopped, and was replaced by the heartening sound of ammo magazines running dry. 

From his position behind a tombstone, the Sergeant barked out the order: _"Fire at will!" And with a massed yell shocking in comparison to the silence of the undead, the soldiers of Hellsing returned fire. Sheets of dust flew from the suddenly bullet-pitted wall as the squad retaliated._

_ "'Ave some, you undead bastard!"_

Under the squad's covering fire, one fireteam darted forward and crouched by the church's crumbling wall.

_"Fire in the hole",_ yelled one of the troops as the other 'posted' a grenade through the ruined window.

A few moments later, the ancient structure was shaken by a sudden explosion. The Ghouls' counterfire ceased abruptly. A few moments later, the order to advance was given, and the soldiers moved forward, scanning for any sign of impending danger. _It's probably too much to hope for to think we killed the Bloodsucker with that grenade_, thought the wary Sergeant.

Slowly, the group advanced to the ruined structure's door, which was, oddly, still intact. Without speaking, the Sergeant ordered one of the troops forward. The man placed an incongruously tiny plastic explosive charge at the door, and moved back. The squad crouched, readying their weapons and steadying their aim. A moment later, there was a small flash accompanied by a loud bang, and the huge, ancient doors flew almost completely off their hinges, into the bowels of the abandoned church. Immediately, two of the Squad members rushed into the room, and were confronted by a scene they were completely unprepared for.

At the far end of the Church's main chamber, a man stood behind a ruined pulpit, a shattered statue of the Crucifix in pieces behind him. The crimson hue of his eyes, coupled with the feral smile he presented to the soldiers in front of him, left no question as to his identity. However, what gave the soldiers pause was what, or rather who, he held in front of him. She was a bruised, bloody but still rather attractive young woman, wearing a uniform identical to the ones formerly worn by the shattered, shrapnel-ridden corpses that lines the wall facing onto the graveyard. Fortunately or unfortunately, she was very much alive, unlike her former comrades.

For the first time in living memory, the Hellsing Organisation had been confronted by a hostage situation.

As the Sergeant and his team-mate moved closer, he was able to discern more about the Vampire. For a start, the creature was wearing the vestments of a priest, even down to a small gold cross around his neck, which seemed like a horrific irony to the Sergeant. As he drew closer, the Vampire held the woman closer and snarled at the approaching soldiers.

_"You get any closer, and police girl here gets it!" _The vampire seized the woman's neck and head, inspiring a choked whimper from his hostage. _"Now, if you want her back, I have some demands-" The vampire was interrupted by the stony-faced Sergeant._

"We don't deal with vampires, scum. Put the girl down, and I can promise you a quick death." Said the Sergeant coldly. The Vampire looked momentarily nonplussed, but then regained his composure. 

_"You wouldn't fucking__ dare. You don't want me to kill this little bitch, you will do what…I…SAY!" The vampire reinforced his words by tightening his grip, causing the young police officer to gasp in pain._

As the vampire spoke, the Sergeant was already advancing. With slow, deliberate steps, he made his way down the aisle towards the vampire. As he drew close, the Vampire and his hostage could make out a few whispered words:

_"…in the Name of God, the impure souls of the living dead will be banished into eternal damnation. Amen"_

 With a grim, almost expressionless face, the Sergeant raised his pistol. A look of surprise came upon the vampire's face, which quickly turned to incredulity as he watched the soldier.

_"Heh, you almost make me laugh. You won't pull that trigger. You won't kill an innocent human being. You don't have the guts!"_

Almost the moment the last word exited the vampire's mouth, the Sergeant fired. The round flew through the air, and ripped cleanly through the hostage. The young woman gasped, in what was almost a choked-off scream, but the noise was eclipsed by that emitted from the vampire behind her. With a hideous screech, the creature exploded into a cloud of burning fragments, which rained down upon the former hostage. As the Sergeant lowered his weapon, the young woman fell to her knees, blinked in an almost comical fashion, and collapsed on the church floor, where she lay, unmoving.

As he watched the dust settle, the Sergeant blinked. He'd never seen a vampire explode like that. Then, remembering himself, he motioned his partner, the squad medic, forward. Without hesitation, the man jogged over to the fallen policewoman, and made a quick inspection. Still crouching, he turned to face his superior.

"She's in shock, sir. The wound isn't large, but she's lost a lot of blood and her liver's shot all to hell." The medic turned the woman's head to the side to examine her neck. "Looks like he bit her too." The Sergeant sighed and shook his head.

"It couldn't be helped." He turned around. "Donahue! Get a body bag! Right bloody now!"  Lost in thought, he it took him a moment to notice the medic speaking.

"She's not beyond help, sir…" Grimacing, he reached into his medical kit and brought forth a transparent plastic container, containing several syringes of a pinkish liquid. The Sergeant's eyes widened momentarily, and he scowled. 

"Don't you think that solution would be a just a _little_ counterproductive to our overall goals?" The medic looked up at him with features made haggard by the stress of the last twenty-four hours.

"With respect sir, we can give her death at any time, but when can we give her a… _life back?"_

Inwardly, the Sergeant was more moved by the medic's words than he would have admitted out loud. In fact, the guilt of having to kill a hostage also weighed heavily on his conscience.

"Very well, Corporal, administer the chemical, and we'll head back to base, God help us."

"Yessir!" Frowning with concentration, the Medic sought out the right vein on the unfortunate young woman's neck, inserted the needle, and made what was either a courageous gesture, or a hideous mistake.

A/N: Any English (or German, for that matter) person would know what football match I'm referring to. If not, just check google for "England 5 Germany 1". 


	2. Carpe Jugulum:Chapter Two

*Insert Standard Disclaimer here*

Now onto the story…

**Carpe Jugulum, Chapter Two**

Deep in the misty green English countryside, the Headquarters of the Hellsing Organisation was a large, stately mansion, whose original inhabitants had long died out or moved on. Following its abandonment, the Manor had been granted to the fledgling Hellsing Organisation, for use as it saw fit.

From the outside, the Mansion looked like a stately home that had fallen into disrepair, with cracked stonework, dirty, unwashed windows, and a large garden, overgrown with weeds. Anyone entering the facility would have been shocked at the contrast between the interior and the crumbling façade outside. As soon as anyone entered the mansion, they were presented with an incongruous object, a large, metal elevator set conspicuously into a wall, it's gleaming metal surfaces a sharp dissimilarity with the woodwork and upholstery around it.

In actual fact, the Mansion was simply a shell, with the elevator being the real entrance into the base. While there were a number of armoured escape tunnels secreted in the nearby woods, the elevator was the only true means of ingress.

The real Headquarters of Hellsing was in fact a colossal underground facility, built beneath the mansion, and stretching out for kilometres around. The facility had been built during the Second World War, and consisted of dozens of underground bunkers, many several stories 'tall', linked by concrete access tunnels. While these bunkers were old, much of the equipment within them was most certainly not.

It was in one of these bunkers, which served as the base's infirmary, that Sergeant Sheppard found himself in. Still weary from the mission, which had concluded only hours ago, he stood behind a glass observation screen and looked into the operating theatre where Corporal Bryans, his squad medic, stood with one of the base's medical staff. They were both facing away from him, examining something on the table. As Bryans shifted positions, it became apparent that the object of their interest was the young woman from the operation that morning.

"So what've we got, sir?" Bryans addressed his question to a tall, somewhat ascetic man with greying hair, dressed in the ubiquitous white lab coat of doctors everywhere. Instead of answering, the man reached down with gloved hands, and gently forced his unconscious 'patients' mouth open, revealing a pair of small, but already distinct fangs.

"_This, soldier, is what we've got." Bryans' expression was disbelieving._

"It happens _that fast_?" The doctor grunted and pulled his hands back. 

"Obviously, it does. May I remind you that this chemical was experimental, had never been tested on a human being, and was only issued to the troops as a _last resort? We have absolutely no idea how it works, or if this is a typical case."_

"Ah, sorry sir."  At this, the doctor looked up.

"I believe I asked you to pull up some information on Jane Doe here. Did you find any?" Drawing his attention from the prone form of the patient, Bryans walked to a desk behind him and returned with a file, on closer inspection, it contained a variety of personal details, as well as a photo of the person in question.

"Yessir. The young lady here is Victoria Celes, a…former officer in the Leicestershire police department, age 21, no living dependants, parents died a few years ago…"

"…and now she's a vampire." Finished the doctor. "Things aren't exactly looking up for Miss Celes, are they?"

"No sir." Briskly, the doctor turned back to his patient.

"Well, the Chemical seems to have something of an anaesthetic effect, and while she is growing fangs, she doesn't seem to have begun regenerating yet. Fortunately, we've stabilised her condition, so she isn't in immediate danger…" Looking up, the doctor made his way to a computer terminal located on the far side of the room. "Command is aware of the situation, and for what it's worth, they think you did the right thing." Turning back to Bryans, he added: "To be honest, I'm not sure whether they want her as a lab rat to study, or are genuinely pleased that you saved her life." After a few more moments on the computer, the doctor turned around, and moved to the unconscious form of Victoria Celes. Brushing aside a lock of blonde hair, he opened her eyes. Bryans flinched involuntarily.

"Bloody hell…" The file he held listed Celes' eye colour as blue, and that had been accurate until a few hours ago. Now, a pair of blood-red orbs glared dully from an incongruously pretty face. Smiling thinly at his companion's discomfort, the doctor closed Celes' eyes and turned to face the shaken medic.

"As you can see, widespread physical changes have already begun throughout the victim's body. The anaesthetic effect of the Chemical is simply keeping her asleep while the Vampire's bite does the rest, and when she wakes up, it will hopefully keep her docile."

Still standing behind the opaque one-way glass partition, Sergeant Sheppard was mildly surprised when he was joined by another man, wearing the Grey fatigues of Hellsing Base personnel. Speaking in a noncommittal monotone, the soldier informed Sheppard to report to one of the base's scattered briefing rooms, where he would be debriefed again by his superiors, with the addition of one of Hellsing's government liaisons. Nodding, Sheppard turned to accompany the soldier out of the room and down the hallway, leaving the doctor and the medic unobserved. 

In the surgical theatre, the Doctor turned his attention to his desk, located in an adjacent room. Motioning for Bryans to accompany him, he sat down and indicated an empty chair nearby. Bryans sat down, feeling oddly like a small child on his first trip to the hospital. He half expected the doctor to hand him a sweet. Instead, the doctor gathered a number of papers together on his desk, and examined one minutely, before raising his gaze to Bryans again.

"Now Corporal, when Command learned of the outcome of your mission, they came to a surprisingly swift decision. They have decided to induct Miss Celes here into the ranks of the Hellsing organisation. Their reasons for this are completely unknown to me, as we have no real knowledge of her personality, mental traits, or even whether she'd be willing to help us. And personally, the thought of an uncooperative Vampire within the base is not a cheerful one to me." Corporal Bryans had been on the verge of releasing an incredulous complaint when the doctor had announced Command's decision, but then thought better of it. Instead, he made a conscious effort to keep his voice level, and asked:

"Who's going to handle training the Vampire? I don't think many of the lads here would be very enthusiastic about having a bloodsucker right up close to them, to say the least…" 

"Actually, I'm glad that you brought that up. Command has come to the decision that your unit should handle the…'taming' of our new recruit. Specifically, you will be assisting me in monitoring and studying any physical, mental or dietary changes, and Sergeant Sheppard will be instructing the Vampire in advanced marksmanship, which shouldn't be overly difficult, considering the fact that when she was alive, Victoria Celes passed a police qualification in shooting." At this point, Bryans was somewhat numbed. His foreseeable future had consisted of killing the Undead in the service of the Hellsing, hopefully avoiding being killed in the process, and then moving onto a higher pay level in one of the other Armed Services. Now that future looked significantly different.

At almost the exact same time, Sergeant Adrian Sheppard received the same news. He took it somewhat more stoically than his subordinate, and had simply acknowledged the order, departing the room after the debriefing. The prospect of being in charge of what was potentially Hellsing's first ever Vampire recruit was an interesting one, and anyway, maybe it would help assuage the guilt he felt over causing the young lady's death in the first place.

Cracking his knuckles, he made his way back to his quarters. He had a long few weeks ahead of him.

A/N: Yes, Blade will make an appearance in the story, once I've wrapped up the Hellsing end to some extent.   


	3. Carpe Jugulum:Chapter Three

*Standard Disclaimer*

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Now, onto a character you might recognise…

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**Carpe Jugulum, Chapter Three**

The first thing that Victoria Celes thought when she awakened was: _Oh God, I'm alive, thank you, thank you God. Opening her eyes, she blinked away the fuzziness at the edge of her vision, and focused as best she could. She was lying on her back, looking up at a featureless, white ceiling. As she tried to move her arms, her attempts at motion were brought to an abrupt halt by a thick restraining strap, holding her arms and legs to the surface she was lying on. That was when the first stirrings of panic began. Hesitantly, she raised her as much as she could, which was a few inches off the surface. Looking around, she found that she was in a cold, impersonal room, with blank concrete walls, painted a light surgical green. Scattered around the room were a number of medical and surgical appliances, and in the far wall, opposite her resting place, was a heavy-looking metal door that appeared very tightly sealed. Turning her attention to the restraints again, she found that they were almost half an inch thick, made of leather supported by strips of Kevlar. All in all, they seemed like overkill._

Distinctly nervous now, she called out tentatively: "Um, excuse me? Is there anyone there? Hello?" Her voice seemed to echo from the wall of the room she was in, serving only to increase her nervousness. Almost panicking, she forced herself to calm down, and try to remember what had happened previously. 

All of a sudden, a flood of hazy memories returned, surfacing from her consciousness like the rusted hulks of long-sunk ships, rising to the surface once more. __

_She remembered heading for the church with the rest of the group, fidgeting nervously. It was the first time she had been armed outside the firing range._

_Tension in the group was high, but they weren't unconfident. The perpetrator appeared to be nothing more than a serial killer with a knife, albeit one with a particularly horrific Modus Operandi, and they were all heavily armed, so it shouldn't be a particular challenge. She remembered Jack, one of her fellow police officers, smiling to her as he began to open the church door…_

_Then they entered the church, and saw…him…_

The memories of the next few seconds seemed particularly vivid to Celes, and she shuddered with the memory of the…thing that, dressed like a priest, had slaughtered the entire team, save her.

_Afterwards, rising from the corpse of the policeman near her, the creature had noticed her. Before, it had moved so fast she hadn't even had time to take the safety catch off before all her companions were dead, and now, as the creature stood up in front of her, it's blood-soaked features laid out in a horribly human grim, she had only just managed to raise her pistol. As the monster walked slowly towards her, her eyes widened and her grip trembled. She willed her hands to fire, but they wouldn't respond, and then the creature was right up next to her, and with a horrible ease it took the pistol out of her hand, and crushed it like it was made of tin foil._

_But the horror wasn't over yet. As she whimpered, trying to draw back from the monstrous being, willing her legs to respond, it reached out and grabbed her._

The next few minutes had been a blur, and she wasn't able to recall much, except for the ever-present stench of death, and an enormous, sudden bang which had knocked her almost to the floor and had caused her captor to snarl in anger. Her last memories were of a man in military fatigues walking towards her, raising his pistol while muttering something under his breath. Then there had been darkness.

Puzzled at these fragments of memory surfacing inside her head, she almost failed to notice a small but insistent sound coming from the door ahead of her. She listened closely, and then realized she was hearing the sound of footsteps, steadily increasing in volume.

Deciding that her best chances lay with inaction, she lowered her head and closed her eyes, willing herself to look unconscious as the door opened ponderously. The footsteps became louder as someone, or perhaps two people, walked into the room. For a moment there was silence, and then one set of footsteps increased in volume, as someone walked towards her. She felt a hand on her lower jaw, tilting her head to one side, and then the other, holding her head with a firm but gentle grip. Then the one who had examined her neck moved away and a conversation started. The first voice to speak seemed to be fairly aged, and spoke with a certain meticulousness, as if trying to arrange the words neatly.

"Well, our patient should hopefully be awakening soon. Our instruments have detected a steady increase in brain activity over the last few hours, and I'd take that as a good sign." The second voice, which obviously belonged to a younger man, seemed somewhat nervous.

"When she does wake up, what're we going to tell her anyway? Will she believe it?" Then the older voice answered, with a certain touch of morbid humour:

"Oh, she'll certainly believe the evidence of her own eyes…"

At this point, Victoria almost wanted to jump of the table and yell: _What changes!? What have you done to me? But instead contented herself by opening her eyes slightly._

The two men were across the room, and neither was facing her. The older voice belonged a man wearing a lab coat, mostly bald but with a certain amount of grey hair on his head. At the moment, he was busying himself studying a computer monitor by the far wall. The younger voice belonged to an equally younger man, watching the older one. The younger man wore green, brown and black military fatigues, and had sandy brown hair. He carried a pistol in a holster strapped to his leg. She realized she recognized the uniform; it was the same as the one worn by the man who had shot her. That meant they weren't affiliated with that…_thing…_

And that was a good sign, wasn't it?

At that point, she resolved to make them aware of her presence. It took her a few moments for her to work up the courage, while the other two, apparently fascinated by some anomaly on the computer display, remained oblivious. Until she spoke.

"E-excuse me?" She asked hesitantly. The effect it had on the other two would have been comical, if it were not for the fact that the situation was so confusing. Both men straightened abruptly, and spun around to face her. The doctor's verbal reaction was contained to a single: "Oh, my." The younger man's reaction was rather more dramatic, and Victoria found herself staring down the barrel of a rather large pistol, before the man seemed to remember himself, and lowered the weapon. The older man turned to his somewhat startled colleague and reprimanded him in a tone that reminded Celes of a stern schoolteacher.

"Now _that, Corporal, is the type of gut reaction we were trying to avoid." The soldier muttered something and flashed Celes an apologetic glance. "Well, you've finally woken up, Miss Celes. How do you feel?" The man's urbane tone and friendly manner caught Victoria off guard, and she stammered a moment before she answered: _

"I'm…fine…where am I?" The words didn't seem to sound normal, as if she was speaking through a mask, and she had to concentrate to make them understandable. The two men glanced at each other for a fraction of a second, and then the doctor spoke up. 

"Miss Celes, we are currently holding you for your own protection, and rest assured we'll get you out of those bonds soon." Victoria blinked. Was this like the witness protection program? Or was she in a mental hospital? Before she could open her mouth to question, the doctor spoke again. "We are currently underground, in an installation owned by a government organisation. That organisation is called Hellsing. Personally, I find the lack of acronyms a relief, but I suppose some of my colleagues would have preferred some obscure acronym. H.E.L.L.S.I.N.G, perhaps…" The doctor seemed to realise he'd gone off the topic at that point, and moved back on with his main explanation: "Hellsing is a highly secret government institution, created officially during the Second World War, though some believe it has it's roots in the period of the Crusades. The organisation was created for the express purpose of exterminating the undead, Vampires, Zombies, Ghouls, and other such monstrosities." Victoria blinked incredulously. Vampires? But vampires didn't exist…_the memories came back with the force of a tidal wave, the image of the creature foremost in her mind, the blood-red eyes and long fangs prominent in its cadaverous face…_and suddenly, Victoria believed. Completely.

Seeing her apparent distress at his mention of the Undead, the doctor paused a moment, motioning for the medic standing by his side to undo the bonds on her arms and allow her to sit up. He wasn't surprised by the flow of emotions that raced across her face for a moment, to be replaced by blank acceptance. When he was sure she had gathered herself, the doctor continued: "Now, yesterday, you were involved in a raid with the Leicestershire police department, in which your team was massacred, and you were taken prisoner by a vampire. The Vampire then reanimated the corpses of your fallen comrades, possibly to thin out the inevitable Hellsing counterattack. The attack did come, and our team managed to wipe out the Ghouls, and destroy the Vampire. Unfortunately, you were injured badly in the firefight…" Victoria looked up.

"I…I remember that…" The doctor nodded. 

"No doubt you do. It's certainly not a situation I would find easy to forget." Still staring at the doctor, she frowned.

"But what happened afterwards? After your man shot me?" At this point, the doctor looked somewhat embarrassed, and turned to the soldier standing nearby.

"Well, when Sergeant Sheppard shot you, the bullet badly damaged your liver, but penetrated the heart of the vampire holding you. The blood loss you suffered sent you into shock, and Corporal Bryans here-" He gestured towards the soldier. "-Performed some emergency first aid and revived you." The soldier didn't seem to register the mild credit he had been accorded, preferring instead to gaze stonily at the wall behind Victoria. Thinking she should award the man at least some thanks, she spoke out.

"T-Thanks, I think…" For some reason, neither the doctor nor the soldier seemed in the least bit slighted by the lack of unqualified praise, and Victoria suddenly suspected there was something that they weren't telling her. For a moment, a horrible thought went through her mind: Had she lost any limbs or organs? No, she reassured herself. Her arms and legs were all present and correct, and she didn't _feel any different…Nonetheless, something was wrong, and these two didn't seem likely to vouch any of the details of their own accord, at least for the moment. So Victoria asked, in a slightly quavering voice that she was ashamed of inside: "Is…is there anything wrong with me? I'm not going to die, right?" Her voice almost cracked, and inside she screamed at herself to keep the fear out of her voice. Awkwardly, the doctor cleared his throat, and seemed about to say something when the soldier beat him to it, speaking with stunning bluntness._

"Actually, you're already dead." For a moment, the comment didn't fully register. Victoria Celes simply sat there, gaping at the two men in front of her, not moving a muscle. Then, an incredulous '_what?' _emerged from her lips, sounding strangely muffled. While her mind whirled, twisting in confusion, and filled with simple denial of what she had just heard, her tongue brushed against something in her mouth. It was a short, sharp fang.

Victoria Celes (1982-2001) screamed.  


	4. Carpe Jugulum: Chapter Four

*Standard disclaimers apply* What is it with Hellsing fans and Evanescence? Heh, well I'm a fan too, so I can't complain. (Hell, I'm listening to _Bring Me To Life as I write this.)_

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**Carpe Jugulum, Chapter 4**

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"Frankly, I can't think of any worse way to break the bad news to someone than that." The doctor frowned as he paced over to the sedated form of Victoria Celes. "Though I suppose she deserved an honest answer…" Running a hand through his hair, Bryans stepped over to the doctor's position. 

"Well, she had to find out sooner or later, and I don't think she would have appreciated finding out later by herself. What I mean is, what if she felt hungry later, and didn't realise what she was doing? Someone could get hurt, and considering the amount of silver bullets, and people who know how to use them around here, I think that someone would have been her."

"Yes, I suppose you're right. Anyway, _try_ to be a little more subtle when she wakes up, alright?"

"Yessir."

Meanwhile, the Hellsing Organisation was continuing its fight against the Undead. 

In the city of Birmingham, in the English Midlands, the setting sun cast a baleful red glow over the city, as its inhabitants returned from their jobs, and its offices and factories ground to halt, emptying before darkness approached. 

The complicated beauty of this scene went unnoticed as a group of Hellsing soldiers made their way through dark alleys, into deserted tenements and across short open areas of waste ground. They ran silently, unburdened by any heavy equipment, with their weapons at the ready.

In front of the squad, Sergeant Adrian Sheppard was taking point, keeping an eye out for any enemy movement. There had been reports of a number of feedings in the area, which had filtered down to Hellsing through its contacts in the Police. The feedings had mainly taken place in this particular neighbourhood, suggesting that the vampire was either lazy, stupid, or was attempting to lure Hellsing here. For safety's sake the latter option was assumed to be true. 

Suddenly, one of the troops moving on Sheppard's left dropped to his knee and fired a burst into the shadows of a nearby alley. "Target left!" The trooper yelled, as the rest of the team moved into position. Almost immediately, a man rushed from the shadows. The blood that coated his mouth and neck left no room for any doubt concerning his identity. At the sight of the Hellsing troops, he bared his fangs, which had the unfortunate effect of encouraging a swarm of silver-jacketed rounds to tear him to pieces. As the corpse fell, it burst into flames, turning into a cloud of ash before it had hit the ground. Somewhat unsettled, the troops drew closer to the smoking pile of ash.

_"Never seem 'em do that before…" _Murmured one of the soldiers. Sheppard remained silent. He had. This vampire had perished in exactly the same way as the vampire in the hostage incident a few days back.

In Sheppard's experience, vampires only died when their brain or heart was destroyed. Silver was particularly effective in this respect, since they were unable to heal wounds inflicted by it. However, dead vampires still left a corpse, albeit a rather hideous one. They didn't usually disintegrate. Sheppard frowned. He'd report this, and then leave it to the Research boys. Who knew, maybe the bloodsuckers were getting more fragile…

****

Shrugging off that vaguely comforting thought, he ordered the squad to regroup and continue their sweep. The rest of the night passed without incident, and the squad returned to base in the morning, tired but satisfied at a job well done.

"Listen, um, Miss Celes, I'm sorry about last night. I realise I could perhaps been a little more subtle."  At these words, Victoria Celes looked up incredulously.

_"A little more subtle?!__ I'm dead, for fuck's sake!" A pair of hostile red eyes glared venomously at Bryans as he flinched slightly, feeling slightly foolish for entering the room without the doctor. Or a small army's worth of weapons. Well he thought inwardly, it could be worse…she could have flown into a murderous rage and bitten me. Then, as quickly as it had erupted, Celes' anger evaporated, leaving a forlorn, terrified woman in its wake. Bryans watched awkwardly as Victoria started to sob. He felt somewhat impotent simply standing there, but he was also very reluctant to get close enough to a vampire to provide comfort. From his position by the doorway, Bryans moved slightly closer and continued speaking._

"Uh, listen, if you were worried about how this is going to…erm…affect you, feel free to take a look at the medical files we've got. You may find the results…reassuring…" Victoria Celes' sobs continued unabated, and Corporal Bryans sighed to himself. Well, maybe he could jar her out of her self-pity induced reverie.

"Will you stop crying for a second? You may be a vampire, but you're acting like it's the end of the world or something!" Startled, Victoria stopped for a moment, and stared at Bryans, like a small child that has just been harshly reprimanded. Her tears stopped for a moment and she sniffed. He continued: "Look, most vampires lose their capacity for pity after their creation. The fact that you can still cry is a good sign; it means that you aren't as inhuman as you think. And if you're worried about drinking blood, don't be, we have a huge supply of animal blood at the base; you won't have to bite anybody."  Looking away from him, Victoria replied: 

"What's going to happen to me? Are you going to perform experiments on me, or what?" 

"Initially, yes, there will be a few experiments, tests; they'll monitor how you function, that kind of thing, but I think the main idea is that you join our military division." Victoria looked at him incredulously. 

"Me? Hunting vampires?"

"I don't see why not. You have better night vision, strength and agility than you did before; you'd make a perfect Hellsing operative." Victoria stopped for a moment and considered this. Before she could answer him, Bryans reached to the counter behind him and picked something up. "But that's not the reason I'm here right now." He said as he turned around; revealing a small plastic bag, full of a surprisingly bright red liquid. Celes' eyes widened. 

"Is that…?"

"It is." Victoria's features arranged themselves into a frown. 

"You don't expect me to actually drink that, do you?" Bryans' face remained impassive.

"You'll have to, sooner or later. And having you go on the vampiric equivalent of a hunger strike won't do anyone any good." Victoria Celes eyed the container with distaste. 

"I'm not going to do it." Bryans exhaled, his calm demeanour cracking slightly.

"You'll have to do it sooner or later. If you don't feed fairly soon, you'll starve to death. Do you want that?" Victoria refused to respond. Seeing her steadfast refusal to cooperate, Bryans sighed inwardly. He'd been hoping to avoid this. He put the container on the table and then, moving with a speed that startled Victoria, he jammed his right hand into her open mouth, bringing his left up to strike her jaw, forcing her jaw closed. He winced only slightly as her fangs bit deep into his hand, and looked at the ceiling. He heard an initial startled exclamation, which was quickly silenced. He flinched at the sensation in his right arm, cradling Victoria's head next to his shoulder. A few seconds later, he withdrew his now bloody hand, winding a bandage around it as he stood back. Victoria looked back at him, wiping her mouth absently as she struggled to find some words.

"I…I'm sorry. I don't know why, but when you…I…" She floundered verbally. Bryans turned to face her; surprised that she thought he deserved an apology. Seeing the look on her face, he replied:

"Don't worry about it. I just didn't want you starving to death, that's all. The cuts aren't bad, but vampire saliva contains an anti-coagulant, so i'll need this…." He held up the bandage. A moment later,  he reached behind himself. 

"You'll probably want this now." He picked up the blood pack and gently tossed it to Victoria. She caught it awkwardly, then stared at it for a moment. There was a straw attached. For some reason, she found that ludicrously funny, and chuckled; the first amused sound she had emitted since she died. Walking towards the doorway, Bryans smiled thinly. At the threshold, he paused and turned back. "I'll be back in an hour or so to show you to your quarters; we can't keep you in the lab forever."

A/N: Yes, I will be getting round to Blade soon, don't worry. I'm just trying to establish the Hellsing side first.


	5. Carpe Jugulum: An interlude

Carpe Jugulum: Interlude

To fill in the time between my next update, I've noted down some facts about Hellsing, and how they relate to the series' spiritual predecessor, the novel Dracula, by Bram Stoker. Be warned, readers, you might actually _learn something from the following paragraphs._

Firstly, the initial scenes in _Dracula_ take place in the mountains of Transylvania, a region which makes up a third of present-day Romania. In Transylvania, it is common to refer to people by putting their Patronymic (Last name) first (For example, Dracula addresses the main character as 'Harker Jonathan' at one point in the novel). In my opinion, this is reflected by Seras/Ceres/Celes Victoria in the _Hellsing_ anime and manga, with a character being referred to with what appears to be a flipped around version of a fairly standard English name.

Moving onto 'Ceres' herself, her name is the Roman name for the Greek goddess Demeter, who represented Death and Resurrection (Similar to what happens to Celes in _Hellsing). In addition, __Demeter appears in the book Dracula, as the name of a Russian merchant vessel that Dracula travels to England aboard._

Ok, that's enough education for now. Expect a new chapter of _Carpe Jugulum soon. _


	6. Carpe Jugulum: Chapter Five

*Standard Disclaimer here*

A/N: Bergens are large rucksacks carried by the British army, and they weigh a ton, trust me.

****

****

****

**Carpe Jugulum, Chapter 5**

Almost a week after her introduction to Hellsing, Victoria Celes was settling in, albeit awkwardly. After a somewhat subdued meeting with Sergeant Sheppard, she settled into a daily routine that consisted mainly of medical testing and fitness/weapons training. The first such session had been a shock for her, however…

"Ok, first we'll try to establish your limits." Sheppard motioned to an enormous equipment crate sitting on the ground next to him. "Lift this." Victoria stared at him for a moment, then slowly moved her gaze to the crate, peering around it to see if the Sergeant was pointing to a smaller object behind it.

"You can't be serious." Sheppard shook his head. 

"You're a vampire, you have superhuman strength. Lift the box." Still staring at the crate, Victoria moved forward, and put her hands around it. It was almost three times as wide as she was. She half-heartedly tried to lift the box. She was about to complain about the impossibility of the task, before she realised that the crate was, in fact, several feet above the ground. To her left, Sergeant Sheppard grinned humourlessly. "Ok, you can put it down now." She dropped the box with a resounding crash, which echoed throughout the training area. She winced as the echoes subsided.

"Sorry…" 

"It's not a problem, we're underground, most of the walls are a few metres thick." He dismissed her apology. Walking towards the door, he called out: "Ok, now we're moving on to the firing range. You'll want to visit the adjacent changing rooms first; we've got your new uniform ready.

When Victoria entered the firing range a few minutes later, she found Sheppard waiting for her. He nodded appreciatively at her uniform. It consisted of a set of black t-shirt and black pants, with a bullet-proof vest over the t-shirt, and Kevlar pads on the arms, legs, knees and elbows. Her head was protected by a helmet, with her face covered with a mask and her eyes covered by goggles. As she approached, Sheppard commented on it.

"Standard equipment for Special Forces around the world, and especially useful for you since it exposes very little skin, so you don't have much to fear during daylight hours; though to be honest, being a half-vampire at best means that the sun wouldn't really harm you much anyway" He nodded towards a rack of firearms nearby. "Since you passed your weapon handling qualifications in the police, I'll assume that you're familiar with basic use of firearms?" Victoria nodded. "Good. In that case, we'll start you off on the H&K MP5, our standard submachine gun. In the field, our weapons use silver bullets, but the ones in the firing range generally use standard 9mm rounds. Much cheaper that way." He handed Victoria the weapon. It was well balanced, and fit well into her arms as she moved into the firing position. Sheppard watched from her left. 

"Good, you've got the stance right. Alright, officer Celes, you may fire when ready." Almost as soon as he was finished speaking, Victoria started off with a three-round burst. The bullets penetrated almost exactly in the centre of the target. She stared in surprise at the holes in the man-shaped silhouette. In the police, she had been a mediocre shot at best, and had barely managed to pass the firearms course. She looked to her left. The Sergeant looked mildly surprised, but took it in his stride. "Very good. Either you were an excellent marksman before, or your vampirism has improved your aim." Blushing slightly from the compliment, Celes fired again, with similarly effective results. Sheppard stood impassively, staring at the perforated target. Now, the centre was almost completely torn out. He turned back to look at Celes. "Looks like you'll be ready for active duty in no time."

With aching slowness, a few weeks passed, with Victoria Celes a virtual prisoner within the Hellsing base, treated courteously by those she met, but denied access to certain areas, particularly anywhere near the access elevators that led to the surface. Her training was going surprisingly well, considering that Sheppard had been forced to skip most of the course due to his pupil's adeptness in most of the skills required. In addition, the blood-drinking aspect of her vampirism wasn't that huge a problem; she had managed to overcome her initial revulsion to the subject, and was starting to find the taste of transfusion blood almost appealing.

The medical aspect of her stay was also proving tolerable. The tests she was administered were nothing as gruesome or painful as she imagined, and she had Bryans to keep her company on the days he wasn't on active duty.

Then, a mere five weeks since her arrival at Hellsing, she woke up to hear a notice over the PA system, summoning her to a briefing room. A few moments later, she arrived there. The room was mostly dark, with the illumination being provided by a number of computer monitors, and a huge, central display. Sheppard was sitting near the door, and indicated an empty chair nearby. Thanking him quietly, she sat down. She could make out Bryans in the small group occupying the room's chairs, but the other few faces were unfamiliar. Celes was soon drawn from her ponderings by a man walking up to the podium in front of the main display screen. He was a distinguished-looking man with greying hair, probably in his late forties or early fifties. He wore the standard dark grey Hellsing uniform, and walked slightly stiffly, as if with a mild limp. As he reached the podium, the Hellsing troops stood to attention, saluting in almost perfect unison. Celes abruptly realized she was the only one still sitting, and stood up quickly, saluting awkwardly and looking around to see if anyone had noticed. Seeing her predicament out of the corner of his eye, Sheppard grinned. Even in the darkness of the briefing room, he could see she was blushing furiously. The officer, whose rank markings identified him as a Brigadier, nodded to the troops to sit, and began to speak. Despite his age, his voice was perfectly clear, with an obvious amount of quiet charisma that commanded immediate respect. 

"Gentlemen, for decades, the Hellsing Organisation has protected the shores of Britain from the scourge of the undead. For decades, we have been successful." Behind the Brigadier, a map of the world appeared, with Britain shaded Blue, with the rest of the world shaded in varying intensities of red. "However, many other nations are not as fortunate as us. In almost every other part of the globe, vampires run rampant, though their work is almost always dismissed as the work of demented serial killers or wild animals." At this point, various gruesome post-mortem images flashed silently on the screen. None of the troops displayed any reaction, but Celes thought she might be sick.

"In the last few years, we have begun to extend our protection to other countries nearby, with a certain amount of success. However, we have never offered any aid to one of our greatest allies, the United States. In fact, out of all our allies, they should have the largest population of vampires, crying out for extermination.

Recently, extremely secret talks between the heads of our government and theirs have brought up the following conclusions: Firstly, America needs its own undead fighting force, and we have proposed to send certain specialists across the Atlantic to train special groups of soldiers to form the nucleus of this new group. Secondly, the vampire population needs to be reduced, before the murders and feedings reach epidemic levels, and the US is overrun by armies of ghouls.

You, in this room here, have been selected as some of the best agents Hellsing has. You will undertake the mission. Callahan, Donahue, and Robertson, you will be the 'specialists' I mentioned earlier. It will fall to you to begin the training of the American teams. Sheppard, Bryans and Celes, you will be travelling to the US on an extermination mission, to locate and destroy groups of vampires, and if possible to discern something of their command structure, if they have one." At this point, the excitement in the air was palpable; they were being sent on one of the most important missions ever undertaken by Hellsing, and their excitement and pride showed clearly on their faces, even in the murky darkness. Waiting patiently for the chatter to die down, the Brigadier moved from his position in front of the screen. "Gentlemen, you are dismissed." Talking quietly among themselves, the group exited the room. While the other three dispersed, Sheppard motioned Bryans and Celes to stand nearby for a moment.

"Ok, the general briefed me and Sergeant Callahan before he gave his little speech, and according to him our Time Of Departure is 0200 hours tomorrow, or perhaps I should say tonight. The idea is to get through the air trip during the night. We won't have to worry about getting through customs, because we're taking a RAF cargo transport to Mexico, ostensibly to pick up a Special Forces team." With a curious look, Victoria asked: 

"Why Mexico?" Sheppard looked at her, and then smiled thinly.

"Because we'll be going through America's southern border, without anyone in the American government knowing it, apart from a few at the very top." Bryans and Victoria both did a double-take, looking at each other, then turning incredulously to their commanding officer. Amused by their reaction, he raised an eyebrow and asked: "How else did you think we were going to get all that equipment into the States? You think they'd let a group of masked commandos through Customs, ignoring the submachine guns, grenades and knives?" Simultaneously, the other two made vague noises of understanding. That made sense, mostly. Then the Sergeant began walking away. Over his shoulder, he called out. "Be ready for tonight. Get your stuff together, and prepare for an interesting flight."

A few hours later, they were bundled into a C-130 Hercules at an airfield a few miles from the base, and were given an additional last-minute briefing by Sheppard, which included the course they would take through the desert, how they would get over the American border, and where they would find shelter later. As they ran across the airstrip, a cold nocturnal breeze chilled the air and hurried them on their way.

"While only a few people know we're coming, they have lots of influence, which is why we have a CIA safe house waiting for us after we cross the border." Yelled Sheppard, struggling to make himself heard over the sound the aircraft's engines were making. "All we have to endure is a small hike through the night, and a quick days rest in the south of Arizona. That's where we'll meet up with a group of American CIA operatives, who will be briefed by their superiors a few hours before our arrival." To Celes, it seemed as if the whole operation was being planned on the run, with the need for secrecy necessitating deception on all sides. She felt a certain amount of pity for the CIA agents they were going to encounter-the world as they knew it would be redefined, and whatever futures they had planned would be thrown into disarray.

Almost before she knew it, the plane was landing in at a small runway in Mexico. The runway had been scratched roughly out of the desert, and hastily paved over. It didn't take much imagination to realise this landing strip wasn't sanctioned by the Mexican authorities. The three soldiers hurried out of the back of the transport, running into the hastily constructed airport. No-one was there, which wasn't surprising, so the three of them began the long walk towards their objective. The plan was to trudge through the desert for most of the night, then spend a day in a concealed position, observing border security and looking for weaknesses, before jumping the border at night. 

For hours the three soldiers walked, through the chilly blackness of the Mexican night. Few words were exchanged, with the three preferring to keep an eye on their surroundings, either with Night Vision goggles, or in Celes' case, with her bare eyes. At first, the clarity of her vision had disturbed her, but it was proving to be extremely useful. As the three walked, each was absorbed in his or her own thoughts. Sheppard was silently running through the mission plan.

_Right, when we're across the border, we head to the safe house, and the US government will provide us with transport to Chicago, which has had an inordinate amount of attacks. Once we've 'cleared' __Chicago__ to some extent, we can proceed all the way down the East Coast…With a start, Sheppard realised he was thinking a bit too far in the future. _Let's stick to the immediate problems, shall we?__

A few metres behind him, Corporal Jack Bryans walked steadily, bearing the burden of his equipment silently. He was also lost in his thoughts, but still kept an eye on the surrounding terrain. _Well, this certainly came out of nowhere. I never thought I'd be selected for something this important, but one thing seems strange: Why is Vicky along with us? She's never been on a mission before, never killed anyone before. She has no operational experience whatsoever. _Bryans shrugged mentally. _Maybe command simply wants to see how she does in the field, and how effective she'll be against the bloodsuckers. At this point, he noticed that he never thought of Victoria Celes as a vampire, merely as a human affected by an unfortunate disease. Perhaps it was because she never acted like any vampire he'd ever seen. Instead of revelling in the drinking of blood, she swallowed it down hurriedly, and never made mention of her condition, unless absolutely necessary. In fact, she was always self-conscious when it came to her fangs and eyes. Bryans found himself smiling under his mask; he had been impressed by Celes' strength of character ever since that first week, when she had taken only a few days to come to terms with her condition, and been conscripted into the Hellsing Organisation's military wing. He was also impressed by how hard she struggled to retain her humanity, even in the face of the massive changes her life had taken. Thinking a little more on the subject, he felt better: Considering her scores in the shooting range, she shouldn't have any trouble engaging the enemy, especially with her disgust at vampirism._

Bringing up the rear of the group, Victoria Celes was, unlike the other two, not particularly deep in thought. Instead, she looked around with wide eyes, marvelling at the wide nocturnal vistas afforded to her by her night vision. In her view, the starlight seemed to illuminate the world as far as the eye could see, bathing the landscape of the desert in an eerie light grey glow. From hundreds of metres away, she could pick out the shapes of small animals hurrying about their nocturnal lives, with small rodents scurrying about, taking advantage of the cold night to evade their reptilian predators.

A few hours later, after an uninterrupted walk through the darkness, the group found shelter in small cave network near the Mexican-American border. Creeping quietly through the almost absolute darkness, the group came across several sleeping would-be illegal immigrants, their sleeping forms pathetically thin, the signs of malnourishment and disease evident. Moving stealthily, the group managed to avoid waking even a single of the sleeping vagrants, and eventually took shelter in a cave farther down than the rest, which was as yet unoccupied by the refugees. Settling down silently, the group prepared to have a long rest, sleeping through the rest of the night and the next day, in preparation for their infiltration of the American border. As she had the least need for sleep, Celes took first watch, while the other two settled down.

While slightly disgruntled at being the first on watch after the long walk, Celes was gratified by the fact that the other two trusted her enough to let her watch their backs. Her watch was uneventful, until the events of a few hours later, at approximately 0600 hours. As she stood, watching the approaching sunrise through her goggles, her supernaturally keen eyes took in movement on the desert floor below the cliffs the caves were set into. Her crimson eyes narrowed as she spotted several figures moving clumsily along the base of the cliffs, working their way upwards.

As far as they could make it out later, the incident occurred when a Mexican border patrol decided to investigate the cave network. They were spotted by a waking refugee, and the ensuing panic alerted Celes to the fact that something was wrong. Turning to alert her comrades, she found they had both awakened at the first sounds of widespread panic. They barely had time to grab their weapons before a horde of Mexican immigrants entered their cave, waving a motley assortment of flashlights, torches and sharp pieces of wood. Understandably, the group stopped dead when they saw three masked, armed soldiers standing in front of them, with weapons at the ready. There was a moment of silence, and a sudden rush in the opposite direction by a large group of refugees who had decided that being detained by the Border Police was a more attractive prospect than dying at the hands of a group of anonymous commandos. 

That would have been the end of it, but one of the fugitives must have mentioned the presence of the Hellsing troops within the caves, because it was not long before a group was sent to investigate. This resulted in a near head-on collision between Sheppard, Bryans and Celes, and a group of Mexican police. Fortunately for all involved, the Mexicans backed down when confronted by massed machineguns, and ended up with their hands and feet bound together, just inside the mouth of the cave. Waiting near the cave entrance, the remaining police, all but one of whom were unarmed, ran for their lives as the Hellsing squad emerged, considerably irritated and blinking dully as they emerged into the sunlight, apart from Celes, who still wore her goggles. Facing down their one armed opponent, an older man armed with a single-shot rifle, they didn't even bother to raise their weapons. The man took one look at them, and then ran to join his comrades, leaving the three soldiers standing in the morning sunlight.

"Well, that could have gone much, much worse." Suggested Bryans hopefully, looking over to his two team-mates. Victoria nodded agreement, but Sheppard remained silent, facing North, adjusting their plan mentally. A moment later, the Sergeant spoke up.

"Alright ladies and gentlemen, we're going to have to alter our travelling arrangements somewhat. We're going over the border in a few hours, at the most."  The other two looked at him dubiously. 

"Are you sure that's a good idea, sir?" Bryans asked, his brow furrowing as he frowned, following the Sergeant's gaze.

"Well, it's either that or wait for the Mexican cavalry to arrive…" Sheppard took a quick bearing, and began walking towards the Border. After a moment of hesitation, the other two started off hurriedly behind him.

After a few refreshingly boring hours of walking in the scorching sunlight, the group made it across the border. They'd obviously timed it right, because they never came closer than a mile to any patrols, none of whom spotted them, despite the fact that their black camouflage stood out glaringly in the desert terrain. 

As the night drew closer, they found themselves in the south of Arizona, on the southern edge of the United States. Arriving a few hours early at the rendezvous point, they settled down to wait for their contacts from the CIA. Conversation was nonexistent between the three, and no-one seemed particularly keen to start one. Idly, Sheppard tested the edge of the knife he was holding on a scorpion nearby, throwing the knife silently, bisecting the unfortunate insect. There was no sound among the three, apart from a brief shriek from Victoria when she discovered a large tarantula crawling on her shoulder. 

At this point, those contacts had yet to begin their journey. They were currently talking in a motel room in Green Valley, Arizona. After a few moments of quiet conversation, the two agents rose from their positions and headed to the door. The first one to reach it was Special Agent in Charge Robert Benson, a man in his mid-thirties, with thick black hair that was already starting to grey slightly. When he referred to it, he always blamed the stress of his job, though he was generally a good-humoured man. For the mission, he was dressed in fairly casual clothing, with a light blue shirt and jeans. Behind him stood Agent Mike Kaczynski, a much younger man, who had been with the Agency for about a year and a half. He had dark brown hair, and sky-blue eyes, which he often hid behind a pair of sunglasses, an affectation that amused his older partner constantly. One thing he _didn't_ find amusing, however, was the current mission. His assignment was to pick up a group of 'important personnel' at a certain point next to a road in the middle of a desert. He was then supposed to escort these 'personnel' to the safe house he and Kaczynski were currently occupying. _This is ridiculous_, he thought to himself. _With next to no information, how the hell do they expect me to do my job?_ When he had expressed these concerns to his superiors, he had been told in no uncertain terms that no further information would be forthcoming, and he should keep his mind focused on the mission. Thus, Benson was not in a happy mood when he departed the CIA safe house that night. 

The drive through the desert was also fairly uneventful, with few words being exchanged between the two agents. When they had reached the rendezvous point, Benson parked the black SUV they had arrived in, and got out of the car. Peering around as best he could, he tried to spot something, some sign that whoever they were supposed to meet was actually there. Looking around, he saw Kaczynski getting out of the car behind him, also glancing around. Turning back, he got a nasty shock, as standing less than three feet away from him was what appeared to be a mobile shadow, a shapeless black form slightly taller than he was. As his eyes adjusted, the figure resolved itself into a rather tall man wearing black fatigues, with a Kevlar jacket, helmet, mask, and goggles, rendering him completely anonymous. As Benson remained paralysed, the figure spoke.

"CIA?" Benson nodded dully. The figure turned around and waved to someone still in the darkness. A few seconds later, a pair of figures moved up, clothed identically to the first one. "Ok, our transport's here, get in the truck." The two figures ran past Benson. By this time, a rather surprised Kaczynski had noticed the soldiers, and had moved over to their position, with his service sidearm drawn. As he took notice of it, the lead commando waved him down. "You won't need that; we're on the same side. Probably." At this point, Benson had recognised the soldier's British accent. 

"You guys British?" The commando motioned to the car and nodded. 

"That's right. Didn't your superiors tell you about us?"

"They didn't tell me jack shit." The commando seemed satisfied by this.

"Good."

A few moments later, and a distinctly uncomfortable pair of CIA agents were sharing the car with three heavily armed soldiers, none of whom were inclined towards conversation. As Mike drove, Benson took the opportunity to study then through the rear-view mirror. In the car, two of the commandos had removed their night vision goggles, and stored them in one of the multitudes of pockets their uniforms incorporated. The third, however, kept his goggles on, and Benson noted curiously that they weren't NVGs, but simple eye protection goggles, standard issue for troops in desert environments. The third soldier also seemed to be rather small in comparison to the two others. With a small shock Benson realised that the third commando was a woman, and a rather…_well endowed woman at that. Internally, Benson chided himself for his thoughts. What was wrong with woman in the Special Forces? Still, it wasn't a job he thought of as sexually inclusive. It was at that point that he noticed one of the other commandos staring back at him through the mirror, so he averted his gaze._

After an awkward drive that seemed to last _far_ too long, the group arrived at the motel. Fortunately, the seedy building's neon sign wasn't working, so the heavily-armed soldiers went unnoticed in the darkness. Hurriedly, Benson let them into the room, and they entered, leaving their Bergens and weapons by the door. They did this without any comment, moving into the living room to occupy the chairs there afterwards. Benson grinned. Only here a few seconds, and they acted like they owned the place. He was starting to like these guys…and girl.

Following the soldiers into the living room, he leaned against a wall and took a better look at them. They were in the process of removing their headgear. The leader appeared to be the tallest of the three, with extremely short, black hair and piercing green eyes. The second man was slightly shorter, with brown hair and blue eyes. They were fairly unsurprising, but Benson had to restrain a gasp when he saw the third commando's pinkish eyes. He stared for a moment, and then mentally it explained it away. _Maybe an allergy or something…_Remembering himself, he cleared his throat and began speaking.

"Ah, our organisation withheld most of the details of this operation, saying that you guys would provide the info. I wasn't expecting it to be an international op, though…" He looked questioningly at the Sergeant, sitting across the room from him. Looking back, the Sergeant smiled grimly, and replied:

"Well, the operation will be taking place entirely within the mainland United States, so it isn't really international. We're just specialists your government has requested." None of this was information Benson hadn't already deduced or guessed, but he didn't let his exasperation show. Inside, he was busily speculating. _Maybe they're here for the War on Drugs? The War on Terror? Deciding to probe further, he said:_

"Well now, that doesn't really tell me much. Can you be more specific?" At that moment, the rather awkward conversation was interrupted as a screeching, stinking mass hurled itself at the room's window, causing it to explode inward, showering the room's inhabitants with sharp shards of glass. Benson had only the briefest glimpse of what the intruder was, but it seemed to be an amalgamation of a human and some kind of horrible biting insect. The thing righted itself almost instantly, hissing at the people in the room.

At least, until it was torn almost in half by a flurry of bullets.

Getting up slowly, Benson looked behind himself to see the three commandos rising from crouching positions by their seats, all of them with pistols at the ready. Nearby, Benson noticed a similarly shocked Kaczynski getting up slowly. The younger man took one look at the smoking corpse on the floor, leaned over to his side, and was noisily sick. Looking back at the commandos, Benson stared for a moment, and then spoke slowly.

"Ok now…what…the…_fuck_…was that thing?" The soldiers remained silent for a moment, then the Sergeant spoke up.

"That was a vampire, Agent Benson, and we'd prefer it if you write this off as a domestic shooting incident when the police come to see what the shots were about." That very moment, Benson heard the sirens incoming. The commandos had noticed a second or so earlier, because they were already moving their equipment to another room, and picking shell casings off the floor. Benson turned his heard as he heard a sizzling sound, which turned out to be the 'vampire's' corpse, which appeared to be melting. Gulping, Benson moved to the kitchen, to get himself a well deserved drink. A few seconds later, he was joined by Kaczynski, who was there for a similar reason. There was silence in the room for a moment as they listened to the approaching sirens, and then Benson sighed and moved to the door, mentally preparing his cover story. _Don't worry gentlemen, this is a CIA operation, we have the authority here…_

After the initial excitement, and a quick conversation with the police, the rest of the night passed without incident, thankfully. In the morning, Benson woke at 5, hoping to have a moment to himself, and was surprised to find the three British commandos eating breakfast at various points around the room. At least, the two men were eating. The woman was poring over a file of some sort which she had taken out of her Bergen. She flashed him a smile as he entered the room, and returned to her reading. 

"Morning." The three commandos spoke in eerie unison, and that was enough to unsettle Benson quite thoroughly, considering last night's events. Gathering himself, Special Agent in Charge Benson decided to get some more information.

"Would you mind telling me just what the hell happened last night?" The Sergeant looked up briefly.

"A vampire attacked the motel room." Benson exhaled noisily, and tried again.

"Yeah, but why?" The answer came in the form of a noncommittal sentence spoken by the Sergeant as he got up and headed for the sink.

"It was attracted to a pack of donor blood we broke open outside the window when we arrived here." Benson frowned. He hadn't let them out of his sight, and he certainly hadn't seen them doing anything like that…

Then the obvious question occurred to him.

"Why'd you do that?"

"Mr. Benson, if we told you we were part of a British Agency dedicated to the extermination of Undead and Supernatural creatures, you either wouldn't have believed us, and thought we were joking, or thought we were all insane. We lured the vampire here so you would have no doubts as to our purpose." By this time, Kaczynski had moved into the room, and was listening, open-mouthed.

"But what're you doing here?"

"That, Mr. Benson, is nothing to do with you." The man's voice was still infuriatingly calm. "Suffice it to say that currently, your country has no official protection against the Undead threat." Moving smoothly from his position by the sink, Sheppard moved towards the living room, turning his gaze to the broken window and the bloodstain that had long ceased spreading across the floor. "What we need now is a means of transport. We need to get to Chicago, as soon as possible."

"Why Chicago?"

"It has the largest vampire population of any city in the US. I have no idea why."

"Uh…fine. I can get you guys a jet within a few hours."

"Perfect."

A/N: Yep, that was an abnormally long chapter, but what can I say-my muse was abnormally insistent today.


End file.
